to get your attention.'
'The joke was on us, and a good one, at that,' said the older-looking of the warriors. She discreetly pushed a sack of coins she had out on the table toward Ren. 'I'm Salen, the leader of this small band. The dark-haired bladeswoman is Gwen, and the one who tried to lift the tray is Jensena.'
'My pleasure, ladies-Gwen, Salen, Jensena. My friends call me Ren. I'd prefer that you call me the same.'
'So, Ren, are you brave enough to wager us for that gold one more time-in a contest of our choosing?' asked Salen.
'Miss, I doubt there's a man alive could take all of you on and survive.'
The corners of Salen's mouth turned up in a smile. 'I expect you're right.'
Ren picked up the sack of coins and tossed them to the innkeeper, who had been watching Ren since he returned to the table. Sot set his big cudgel down with deliberation on the bar. He was obviously annoyed that Ren had risked a night's business for a prank, but when he opened the purse and saw the large amount of gold inside, he grinned and winked his approval to Ren. 'Have an ale and see what they have in mind!' shouted Sot, and he pushed a tankard down the bar toward Ren.
'What kind of contest were you thinking of?' Ren asked as he grabbed the tankard and turned back to face the three warriors.
'Your muscles, however well hidden under that baggy shirt, won't help you in a dagger toss,' said Salen coyly.
'No, I suppose they wouldn't,' said Ren, 'but I should warn you-I've thrown a knife or two. Are you sure you're still game?'
The other two, who hadn't looked up from their food since Ren had come to the table, burst into laughter. 'This time you've met your match, big fella,' Jensena said, pointing her fork toward Salen. 'I've never seen Salen beaten yet, and I've watched her throw almost as many times as I've been in battle.'
The three finished a few more bites of food and then stood up and carried their tankards over to the small table beside the inn's well-used wooden target. The great round slab had been taken from a gigantic pine that had seen hundreds of years of life. Concentric growth circles were etched into its surface, making a perfect target.
Salen removed a leather box from her backpack. She lifted the cover of the box to reveal two pairs of daggers, one glistening black, the other white.
'Lovely weapons,' said Ren. 'May I?' He waited for Salen to nod before picking up each dagger in turn to test its balance. The blades were made for throwing into live targets, but they were perfect for the game as well. Each blue-steel blade was wider near its point than it was at its base. The onyx and crystal handles were slim and capped with gold ends that offset the weight of the wide blades. In the hands of a skilled thrower, any one of the daggers could easily slice through flesh and bone. Ren had no doubt they had been used for just that purpose.
'Go ahead, try a throw,' urged Salen.
Ren needed no coaxing. After a year's absence from thieving, rangering, or any other kind of action, he was more than ready to heft a balanced weapon in his hand. Even though he had chosen a seemingly aimless existence until such time as he was ready to hunt down the person responsible for Tempest's death, Ren was generally a man of action. Passivity was not in his makeup. Somehow these three lighthearted women, with their wagers and laughter, had awakened a part of Ren's nature he had kept buried for too long. He picked up the onyx-handled pair of daggers and released each in turn with a fluid twist of his torso and flick of his wrist. Both blades thunked solidly into the line that bordered the center circle of the target.
'Not bad,' said Salen, taking up the crystal-handled pair. 'I enjoy a challenge.' Her movements were deft and experienced. The blades landed within the border of the center circle, hardly a hairbreadth apart.
There are probably a hundred ways to play the game of daggers, and Ren and Salen started by haggling over the rules. Before beginning in earnest, they each made several more tosses till each player thought he had the measure of the other.
Ren hadn't felt so good in months. He'd forgotten how a good blade felt in his hand, the splendid feeling of control when his body did exactly as he wanted it to. For the first time since Tempest died, he found himself scanning the room, sizing up the people. His rangering skills enabled him to tell at a glance if a foe was formidable. His thieving skills allowed him to estimate the possible takes available in the room. Salen was good, but the contest was yet to begin, and Ren was feeling great.
As Salen removed the blades from the round wooden slab, Gwen came up close to Ren and touched him lightly on the arm. 'You're good,' she said, 'and you're no eyesore, either.' She ran a finger teasingly close to the opening of his tunic, and turned her body till she was directly alongside him. He could feel his heart speed up as she tossed her rich dark hair back and her body brushed his side. Her thick, brown hair smelled like a summer meadow, and he could feel his head reel as sensations he had ignored for twelve long months rose now, unbidden. 'You know, if you didn't smell so bad, I could see us getting together.'
Before he could respond, Gwen whisked away from him and returned to the table where Jensena was now sitting, awaiting the start of the match.
'It's getting hot in here,' said Ren, turning back to face Salen.
'I'm sure you think it is,' she said with a knowing glimmer in her eyes. 'What do you say we get started in earnest?' Ren nodded, and she returned his two black daggers and made her first toss of the contest. One thunked into the outer edge of the center circle, and the other landed in the border between the center and the second ring.
She's tough, Ren thought, but not tough enough. In one motion, Ren slid both blades into throwing position, one in each hand, and flicked them both toward the target with only a fraction of a second between throws. He watched in horror as the two blades parted as they neared the target and slammed into the board several inches wide of center! He stalked to the board and jerked out the two black-handled blades. They looked right; they even felt right-until he pulled out the crystal-handled daggers and felt the difference in balance, and then he knew he had been duped. These ladies were clever. The difference between the blades he had started with and the ones they had substituted was as subtle as the exchange had been. It was a perfect response to his stacked-platter prank, but he would not be duped.
He returned to the throwing mark, shaking his head. 'Salen, you're throwing with a vengeance. On the other hand, I appear to be losing my touch. I'm afraid if we make too many more tosses, I'll only be humiliated. What do you say we make one last throw for the money and call it quits?'
'That's all right by me' she said quickly, her hands shooting out for the white daggers. She carefully took her stance, tossed, and planted both of her daggers in the center of the circle. The quivering blades were barely over an inch apart. She stood back proudly, her eyes on Ren's big hands and the black-handled blades he was holding.
'I'm sure you won't mind if I use my own daggers for this final throw,' Ren said matter-of-factly. In a blur of motion, before she had a chance to respond, he had dropped the substitute daggers and pulled his own ebony killing blades from his boot tops. Without a moment's hesitation, he threw his daggers with full force at the pine target. They slammed into the board, lodged up to their hilts, perfectly positioned at the center of the board, directly between Salen's blades.
The three fighters glanced nervously at each other and at the quivering hilts of the ebony blades. Ren walked to the board and removed Salen's daggers and his own as if he were pulling them from warm tallow.
As he returned to the three, Salen tossed him a sack of silver. Then the three of them headed for the door of the inn without saying a word. 'Maybe another time,' said Ren softly as he watched them go. He hadn't meant to insult the three female warriors or chase them away. They were as competitive as he, and it had been too long since he'd faced a good challenge. He realized that he had thoroughly enjoyed himself.
He sheathed his daggers and returned to the bar. 'There's tables to be wiped,' said Sot in a near whisper, awe apparent in both his voice and his look.
'No problem,' said Ren amiably. It was the beginning of the best night he'd had in a long time.
